Not Dead in a Tea Cup
by DIY Sheep
Summary: House celebrates life by torturing his best and only friend. They get rotated likes socks in a washing machine and discuss life, the universe and giant tea cups.


"Nixon's coming. We're finally on our own."

"What?"

"This summer I hear the drumming."

"What exactly are we doing here House?" said Wilson as he deathgripped the sides of the 'horrible plastic yellow thing' as he thought of it.

"We are rotating."

"I know that. It is kind of sickening really. Aren't we a little old for this."

"You are never too old to rotate, but I have to agree. It always looked better on the TV when you were a kid didn't it?"

"I don't know. My parents didn't have one."

"You are kidding! No Leave it to Beaver or I Love Lucy?"

"No. My mother always had hordes of little old ladies over doing little old lady stuff and my father told me TV would rot my brain. Oh finally. It's finished. We can get out of this oversized cup of coffee."

But House showed no sign of wanting to move. "It's a tea cup Wilson."

"Whatever."

House settled back in his little plastic seat and closed his eyes. "I never watched them either."

"What?"

"All those shows. I moved around a bit. We didn't get CBS where I lived."

"Well it was probably more exciting than where I grew up. Dullsville USA. Can we get out of the tea cup now? Some kid probably puked on that seat and there is an attendant coming over. I think they want us to get out for the next ride."

"I used to imagine that's what perfect families did. They would sit around the TV and laugh at Lucy. We never did. We were always somewhere hot or cold and dad would be six thousand miles up in the air bombing the crap out of some children because there was always a war on somewhere." House looked at him and opened his eyes. "They were only kids you know."

"Who were?"

"They met on the common."

"What are you talking about?"

"Do you know what day it is today?"

"May 4th. So?"

"They'd be middle aged now. All of them. Just like us. Taking their kids to Disneyland, worrying about the astronomical cost of a hot dog in this place and if the car needs a service. How things would have changed for them. But now age shall not weary them. The oldest was twenty. Do you remember being twenty?"

"No, I was born thirty five."

"Complete with pocket protector."

"Oh like you were such a rebel?"

"No, you are right," House sighed. "I wasn't. I was too scared. You wouldn't have caught me dead on that common. I was afraid of the man with the big stick. That's the problem with big sticks. They hurt."

"You are totally losing me on this one."

"Tin soldiers kill people," House said dreamily. "They said it sounded like a machine gun going off. They all started running, but they weren't fast enough. Two girls and two boys. Four more who would never have to worry about taxes and the expanding waistlines," he said as he eyed off Wilson. "Four more who would never get to ride in a giant tea cup." He sighed theatrically. "Poor bastards."

Wilson frowned. Time for a change of tactics. "House: for once can you be honest with me. Why am I sitting in a giant tea cup?"

House smiled at him fondly. That's what he loved about him. Wilson was such a dolt sometimes. "Simple: we are celebrating the fact that we have the luxury of deciding to be sitting in a giant tea cup or not."

"Excuse me gentlemen, but you have to get out now."

They looked up at the young lady. "I'm sorry. My leg is giving me grief here, said House." He waggled his cane.

Thoughts of lawsuits flashing before her eyes and the attendant immediately caved. "I'm sorry sir. Would you like a wheelchair?"

House smiled smugly. "Would you? You are a dear."

The attendant bustled off.

"You are a creep you know that. Taking advantage of her like that."

"Gotta get down to it, soldiers are gunning us down."

"What?"

"Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right: I'm just happy that I'm stuck in this tea cup with you."

"I'm going to have to certified you know."

"Should have been done long ago," House said as he hopped out of the cup.

…

They wandered down the immaculate Disneyland path. "What if you knew him and found him dead on the ground," House sang to a small perfectly trimmed shrub.

"Listen House. I am tired, cranky and have just been rotated like a pair of socks in a washing machine. What the Hell are we doing here?"

House clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm being happy with you."

"Well you might be, but I am feeling a bit off. I think I might be ill."

House looked shocked. He drew himself up. "Wilson! Ladies are ill, gentlemen vomit," he said in a bad English accent.

"You stole that from Peter O'Toole in My Favourite Year."

"So did not."

"So did. You made me watch it because you said it would be instructional for the next time I bought you food. Something about Jews should know Chinese food and that you had a hankering for dumplings."

"I don't remember that."

"I hate your selective memory."

"I hate you."

"Hate you more."

House stopped. He rubbed his chin. "What about if I get you photographed with Mickey?"

"No!"

"Oh come on – the cancer kiddies will love it."

"No!"

"Oh come on! Live a little… buy me some fairy floss."

…

For the non-history buffs:

In 1970 (May 4th to be exact) there was an anti-Vietnam War protest in Kent State Ohio by a bunch of students: the whole flares, 'hey man' and pot type stuff.

It was a turbulent time. It was all going crazy at that point, emotions were all over the place on every side and someone decided to send in the National Guard to make sure the protest didn't get out of hand. Of course the poor buggers panicked, but the problem was they were also armed with semi-automatic weapons and they opened fire on a bunch of unarmed teenagers.

Two girls and two boys died that day. Quite a few more were wounded and one was paralyzed.

This was a turning point in terms of public opinion regarding the war. Killing other people's kids is okay, but killing your own was just a bit much. I can't watch the Lehrer News Hour anymore. I can't stand the ten minutes of silence at the end while all the pictures of the dead boys and girls dying in Iraq come and go.

Crosby, Stills and Nash wrote a song about the Vietnam was: Four Dead in Ohio – which is where all the cryptic comments come from.


End file.
